CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Do you really think there will be a war, Crawfie?” Lilibet asked. The three of them were sitting on the little hill in the Buckingham Palace garden. The September sun was warm on their faces, and above them, in the blue sky, birds wheeled and swooped.
Almost certainly, Marion thought. You could feel it in the air—a grim expectation. You could see it all around. Across the road, in Hyde Park, trenches had been dug. Sandbags had been put outside Whitehall offices where arrangements were being made to send London children to the countryside.
She looked at Lilibet. Thanks to her newspaper reading, she was well-informed. She would not be fobbed off. Honesty was usually the best policy. “Depends on Russia,” she said. “Stalin hasn’t joined the Axis yet.”
“But if he comes down on Hitler’s side, the Nazis will take Poland,” Lilibet pointed out. “And you know what will happen then.”
“Horrid Hitler!” Margaret was tearing daisies from the grass. “Spoiling our trip to Balmoral!”
Lilibet looked at her sister. “Well, at least we’re not going to Canada.”
There had initially been suggestions that the royal family leave the country. The queen had firmly refused. “The children would never leave without me. I would never leave without the king. And the king would never leave” had been her much-quoted response.
Her transformation from socialite to state figurehead continued apace. When she discovered that Hitler had called her “the most dangerous woman in Europe,” she had been thrilled. “What can the most dangerous woman in Europe do for you, Crawfie?” she would crow whenever Marion went to consult her. “The most dangerous woman in Europe calling!” she would cackle when she rang up her friends.
But she had been careful never to do this in earshot of her daughters, who, she believed, had remained largely ignorant of both the war and who had caused it. She was wrong, of course, especially about Lilibet, who was currently trying to explain Hitler to her sister.
“He’s the leader of Germany,” she began. “They call him the chancellor.”
“We’ve got one of those,” Margaret put in, confidently. “He’s in charge of all the money.”
“Not that sort of chancellor. Hitler is like a prime minister and a president rolled into one. He is all-powerful and has no legal opposition.”
“So king of absolutely everything?” Margaret looked impressed.
“It’s called a dictator.”
“I’ve seen pictures of him.” Margaret clasped her arms round her legs. “He never takes his coat off. Not even when it’s hot. I bet it’s smelly.” She ruffled the nearest corgi. “I wonder if Hitler has any pets.”
“He has a cat called Schnitzel, I believe.”
Marion stared at Lilibet. Her memory for details was astonishing. Wherever had she picked this one up?
“How did he become so powerful?” Margaret wanted to know. This, of course, was the difficult bit. Lilibet looked at Marion, stumped.
She took a deep breath. “He’s very good at speeches. People believe what he says.”
“But what does he say?”
Marion hesitated. “He tells the Germans that they were born to rule over other people.”
“Papa was born to rule over other people!” exclaimed Margaret.
“Yes, but not that way.”
Four challenging blue eyes were turned on her. “Why not?”
“Well, because we are a democracy. Our monarchy is constitutional and derives its power by permission of Parliament and people. It can’t act alone.”
The princesses looked puzzled.
“Hitler also tells the Germans that he’ll give them all jobs. A lot of Germans lost their jobs and were unhappy about it.”
Lilibet was alarmed. “But people here don’t have jobs and are unhappy.”
“Well, yes. But it’s not quite the same.”
“But why not?” demanded logical Lilibet. Her mind was clearly bounding ahead, linking things together. “What if we get a dictator here? What will happen to Mummy and Papa and Margaret and I?” She glanced at the dogs chasing each other through the heather. “And Dookie and Jane?”
Margaret shook her fist. “Don’t worry, Lilibet! We’re going to give those beastly Germans absolute hell!”
“OUR LAST LESSONS in peace,” chanted Margaret on the morning of September 3. Hitler had, as expected, invaded Poland, and the Germans, also as expected, had ignored the British request for a withdrawal of troops. Unless they did so by 11 a.m., Britain would declare war.
“Shut up,” said Lilibet, throwing an exercise book at her.
“Beast!”
“Brute!”
“It doesn’t look much like peace to me,” said Marion.
Both girls kept looking at the clock on the wall above her desk. “Half past ten!” exclaimed Margaret. Then, fifteen minutes later, “A quarter to eleven!”
While she fought to seem unruffled, Marion found that her knees, under the table, were shaking.
“Eleven!” shouted Margaret. She started dancing around the classroom.
“Stop it! Stop it!” yelled Lilibet. “Tell her to stop, Crawfie!”
Marion switched on the schoolroom radio. The sad, quiet voice of the prime minister floated into the room. “I’m afraid I have to tell you,” the former champion of appeasement was saying, “that no such undertaking has been received and as a consequence this country is at war with Germany.”
Margaret stopped shouting. She turned to Marion, her violet eyes full of fear. “Crawfie! What’s going to happen now?”